


Collection the Fourth: University Happenings

by classics_above_classics



Series: Alice Dorothy and Stories Set Elsewhere [20]
Category: Elsewhere University (Webcomic)
Genre: Breather Episode, Deals, Gen, information broker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21602443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classics_above_classics/pseuds/classics_above_classics
Summary: It is a challenge, finding comfort in the days after trials. The University offers it anyway.(A collection detailing the days of two Elsewhere U. students.)
Series: Alice Dorothy and Stories Set Elsewhere [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1363462
Kudos: 10





	Collection the Fourth: University Happenings

**Author's Note:**

> I actually have the update where they find Lento already written, but timeline-wise I think this should be before it.
> 
> There should be one more update after this one before Lyric-Weaver comes back.

It's just hit two o'clock when Connor finds the second Fiddler in the biology labs, a worm glittering jewel tones in his hands and a scalpel by his side. It's weirdly fitting, against the leaf-patterned walls. They don't know why it wouldn't be.

It's their first time seeing the second Fiddler outside of Michael's office, the one they don't exactly remember the name of. They've seen the first one, of course, Michael, and the fourth one was the one who dragged that probably feral student away from D. when he bit nem, but the second and third ones are enigmas. But the second one looks friendly enough, so they figure it'd be okay to ask him some questions.

That's the whole of it, really. They need to ask a few questions. There are answers they need to know.

"Oh, do you need anything?" the Fiddler asks, looking up from his work. There's a precision to it that Connor can't help but marvel at, with a cut that falls entirely straight delicately sectioning the glimmering worm. They imagine that scalpel turned against them and the wonder fades just a little. "I'm a little busy right now, but if it's important..."

"It is." Connor steps forward, their resolve strengthening at the bold move. "Listen, you're the one that knows things, right? I need some questions answered."

"Oh, it's you." The second Fiddler looks up-- properly, this time-- pausing for a second before setting down his specimen. "You were with A.D., weren't you? You've got guts, kid, talking back to my sibling. Or maybe you didn't know what they were?"

They hadn't known, back then. Not really, anyway. They don't think they really know now, either, even with D. hammering in how dangerous the fairies can be.

"They were talking shit," Connor excuses. It's enough to make the second Fiddler snort, amusement flashing bright in his eyes. "But that's not why I'm here. Like I said, I need answers."

"To what?" He levels them with a doubting look that makes them wonder what he thinks of them right now. "You'll owe me, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." D.'s told them about this, too. Ne'd explained it almost more seriously than everything else ne had talked about. "So I'll ask for your price first. It's not, like, actual money, right? So I should be able to pay."

There's faint pity in his eyes. Connor isn't mistaken. "Right. We'll see. It's got to be an equal price, of course, so-"

Connor cuts him off quickly, steeling their nerves for the answer.

"What'll I have to pay if I ask you when Lyric-Weaver's coming back?"

The second Fiddler winces, which doesn't bode well for the rest of the questions they have in mind.

"Ah... Lyric-Weaver. That changeling, right? The one who replaced D.'s old roommate. That's... I don't want you to have to pay for this information, kid. Not when this is clearly, at the worst, your first deal."

"What's the price?"

"A day you hoped and longed for." And what the hell kind of answer is that? "Or, at the very least, the memory of it. A rendition of it. In all the detail you can manage, from the temparature of the day itself to the sounds in the location to the exact feeling of elation you experienced. It's the lowest price I can think of for a day you want so badly to know."

"What the hell?" Connor balks, seeing the boy in front of them in a new light. "What are you even going to use that for?"

"People get creative with their questions," the Fiddler answers vaguely. Which, really, doesn't help even the tiniest goddamn bit. "What else do you want to ask for?"

Well, considering the sheer ridiculousness of this question's price, theyre not sure if they're willing to ask. But Connor squares their shoulders and tries anyway. "How do you get your information?"

"Oh, this I can answer freely. A Deal made me like this. It was a surprisingly good Deal." They can practically hear the capitalization in those words. "Anything more?"

"Is it worth it, joining the Knights?"

At this, the boy pauses. "Depends. It is, for a certain value of worth. What do you mean?"

Connor scowls, rephrasing their question mentally. "... Will it be fulfilling? Will it help? With- Fuck, I don't know. Will it help me hate Lyric-Weaver less?"

They think they've decided. They don't want to hate Lyric-Weaver. Not really. Lyric-Weaver's their friend, aren't they? So- So can they really want to hate their friend?

"If you're really questioning that," the Fiddler answers, "then you should already know the answer."

Connor lets out a breath they didn't know they were holding.

It's... a weird thought. A cathartic one, maybe. Or at least one that doesn't settle oddly in their stomach, that won't make them toss and turn at night. They don't need to turn against Lyric-Weaver. They don't have to be a part of the Knights.

There's a part of them that's still hesitantly curious, sure, but...

They don't know, right now, if it's worth it.

"Okay," Connor says, making a decision.

"When is Lyric-Weaver coming back?"

The Fiddler sighs, and the air around them seems to warm with... something. Connor bets it's magic.

"Come midnight on Halloween, they will be back." The boy picks his worm back up, carefully cutting free a little red heart from its body. "Go to the main entrance of the school and you'll find them when they come in. Don't take any iron. Don't take any salt. God knows how their... companions? God knows how their companions will take that. You won't miss them."

"Thank you," Connor answers. "I..."

"You needed to know." And that pity is back in his eyes. "It's nothing. Just remember what you owe me. I won't forget."

Well, isn't that threatening. Connor nods, turning to go.

"Oh, and Connor?"

"Yes?"

"Remind Alice D. she owes me a recipe."

Connor pauses, their eyes meeting those of the boy they hadn't told their name, and they leave.

⋈

"Whole wheat crackers?" Johnny asks. "Really?"

Alice D. averts her eyes from the piece of white paper she's handing him, avoiding the sight of neatly written words handily. "And jam, too," she replies softly. "I lost the book where everything was written. This was all I could remember."

"Hey, I'm not saying it's bad." The second Fiddler folds the paper in a quick, calculated motion, sliding it into his pocket and adjusting his glasses. "I don't actually know how to make either of these. I appreciate the information."

"Oh, good." D. can't quite help the relieved smile spreading across her face. It's a rare sight, she muses, within the walls of the biology dissection lab.

It's silent for a moment, almost entirely so, with neither of the students speaking. Johnny is glancing carefully towards a watch on his left wrist, counting down the seconds until god-knows-what. D. stares up at the vein that runs from that wrist, relishing in the emptiness of it. There is no red string dangling down from it. There is no debt to be paid.

But there is silence, and after a while, that isn't quite enough.

"Um... why are you always here?" D. asks, her hands clenching nervously into fists. It's a question asked too quickly to truly have settled in her thoughts, but it's a question to ask all the same. Why here, in this empty lab, with only the dead to surround you? It's a morbid theme. D. doesn't quite think that she likes the morbid. "Michael told me, earlier, when I asked where to find you, that you were always here. Why would you want to stay here? Doesn't it feel... off?"

"Does it feel _other_ , you mean," Johnny corrects her, not turning away from his watch. It ticks loudly in the relative quiet. "And... no, not really. This place isn't exactly magic to me. It's not baseline normal, yeah, but it's better than some of these places. The gardens, the greenhouse-- hell, some of the classrooms have more magic than this! This room is nothing."

"That's not what I was asking," D. replies. It isn't what she was thinking, either. What she's thinking now is a little more on the lines of that it feels like the animals are watching her.

Johnny pauses, taking a moment to think. He's turned away from his watch, D. notes, his focus shifting to her. It's more unsettling than when he had been looking away.

"I needed an office," he finally decides, offering her a crooked grin. "What's it to you, Lost One? I don't see you interrogating my brother."

"Michael's an adult." That's different. She's well aware that Michael's not someone she wants to question. "And he's highjacked an actual office. That's a degree of audacity I'm almost proud to see."

"Oh, don't tell him that. Never tell him that. We don't need to inflate his ego." Johnny laughs, leaning back comfortably against the leaf-decorated wall. "But seriously, are you okay being here? I've heard enough about the critfail that is your constitution roll."

"Have you been talking to Connor?" She swears, if her roommate said anything embarrassing...

Johnny doesn't meet her eyes. Fuck, Connor _has_ been talking.

"Right. Let's pretend you don't probably know everything stupid I've done in the past three weeks." Was it him they'd been getting all that information about fighting the fae from? She sincerely hopes not. "I'm... questionably fine here. It's not that bad. It's not like it's the forest."

And God, the forest, with its branches and leaves grabbing cursedly towards her. She shudders at just the thought of it. She used to be alright with the forest. And now...

Now, she can reach up and feel the ring of scars around her neck. They aren't fading. Perhaps it's fae magic that they stay like a brand burned into her skin. She doesn't question it. She only wonders how she'll hide it once she gets home.

"Still." Concern flashes briefly across the second Fiddler's face. He takes a second to speak again. "Do you want to talk more? Or are you going to leave?"

"... I think I want to talk more." Maybe. She's not all that sure. But at least it gives her something to do.

"Alright, then." Johnny gets up, running a hand through his red hair. It's a habit that D. wonders at. Is it his trying to be casual again? She'd seen that back when they'd all been confronting Watson. Is it really a nervous habit? "Let's talk outside. I needed some fresh air anyway."

The obvious lie doesn't make Alice D. pause. She lets it slide comfortably, trailing after Johnny as he walks.

He's not paying attention. That, at least, she notices. So it's interesting to see where he's going, to wonder at where his path leads. It has to be a familiar path, with the genuine casualness he seems to follow it with, but she can't tell exactly where it's heading. The school entrance, maybe? The open grounds? Wherever he's going has to shine some light on his psyche.

Johnny stops at an open gymnasium, with wide glass windows and salt lining each sill. It's fairly loud inside, with students bantering and the sounds of metal clanging loudly against metal. D.'s stomach settles here, in the way that it always does when she enters the dorm room and Connor's soldering some metal or when she walks by the chemistry majors' classes.

The whole room echoes with iron.

"It's the fencing grounds," Johnny explains, pushing the door entirely open. In the centre of the gym, D. sees students fighting, the quick flash of their foils practically a blur. "It's Knight ground, the fairies know it, but they let normal students train, too. Litwick likes to come here when his coursework isn't making him cry."

"Oh." D.'s voice almost rings hollow in her ears. This room, with its stringent protections, is like a breath of fresh air. Hesitantly, she steps in, closing the door shut behind her.

"What did you want to talk about?" Johnny asks, moving to sit cross-legged on the floor. "Anything important?"

"Not really." D. follows, sitting down beside him. She's incredibly aware of how clumsy the movement is, in comparison to the fluidity of the fencers' attacks. "I just... I'm not sure. I need to talk in general, I think."

Because this-- the world around her, the choking, creeping feel of Elsewhere-- this makes everything feel too heavy to let out. But it doesn't feel right, keeping everything in, and it's not like she can talk to the others about it. Connor has their own problems involving the Else to deal with. Michael, she feels, is the same. It's safer, maybe even better, with someone she barely really knows.

"Things got too quiet, huh?" There's an understanding to that in Johnny's eyes that makes her feel a little better about it. "Well, I'm not going to stop you. Talk away."

Alice D. can't quite suppress a relieved grin. "Thank you. You can do the same whenever, if you'd like."

Her mistake only fully registers when Johnny starts speaking, but it's quickly proved useless once he does. "No problem. No debt, either. I'll keep your offer in mind, though."

And so with a load lifted off of her shoulders, D. talks. It's more freeing than she thought it would be.


End file.
